Bailey and Max
by Jamison Leigh
Summary: 10 years after the final chapter of Married Life, where are the Chases now?
1. Haven't Seen Ya In a While

Bailey and Max

**The long awaited sequel to Married Life by twilightercullenxoxo! I finally got around to writing it! I'm so excited! If you like Supernatural, you should read Finding Each Other by Lucky Naruto08 (I betaed from chapter 3 onward!)**

**Ages: **

**Bailey Xavier Chase- 15**

**Maxwell Gregory Chase- 12 ½**

Chapter One: Where I'm from

_Bailey POV_

I'm Bailey Chase. I'm fifteen years old, and I live in Melbourne, Australia. My dad was born in Australia, and wanted to move back a couple of years ago. My mom being who she is agreed to it. My parents are both doctors. When I tell people that, they all assume that I want to be a doctor too. I don't. I want to be an artist. I want to paint. I love to paint.

My uncle Greg always told me to do whatever I want, just don't be a failure. I've loved art for as long as I can remember. I'm in year nine, and we just took our assessments. I think I did relatively well, considering that I'm not the most book smart guy. I leave that to my little brother, Max.

When I'm not painting or drawing, I'm surfing. Either real waves or the internet, it really doesn't matter. My dad taught me to surf when I was six. I live in the water. I do rowing through my school, and I've gotten pretty good at it.

My dad says that whatever I do, I should do it well. I plan to do just that. I don't do anything halfway. My kid brother is just in middle school, he's twelve. He's kind of a pain. I miss living in America. I miss my Uncle Greg, and my Aunt Lisa. I miss Rachel, Audrey and Leah. I miss seeing Uncle Eric, Aunt Remy and Uncle Chris.

I hate my uniform, I realize as I pull it off. It's constricting. I feel suffocated in it. Max runs into my room, a wide grin on his face. His hair's getting too long, I note, as he has to whip it out of his face like a retarded Justin Beiber.

"Bailey! Guess who's coming to visit?" he exclaims, excitement clearly expressed.

"Who, Max?" I try to show the same amount of enthusiasm as my little brother.

"Uncle Greg and Aunt Lisa!" He said, bouncing up and down.

A grin split wide open, I couldn't help myself. I felt my dimples flare, and tried to control it. My dimples are always showing when I don't want them to. Stupid dimples, I reflect.

Max giggled, and ran off—to email one of his little friends, probably. I know I've been talking negatively about Australia, but I've managed to make some friends. I play cricket with two of my best friends, Pete and Trevor. I've even managed to have a girlfriend once or twice. So, Australia isn't all bad.

The only bad part is that I think my parents aren't in love anymore.

_Cameron's POV_

I sometimes forget what it was like living in America. I love my job, I love my house, I love my boys, and I love my car. The only thing I do not love a lot these days is my husband. We get along; we even still act like a "normal" couple. But, after my miscarriage nine years ago…things have been a little strained. He and I never talked about it; we just pretended it never happened.

I felt like a failure when I lost the baby. I was six months pregnant, and all of a sudden I was bleeding heavily. I lost it. I went to the ER, and got admitted. They removed the baby; it would have been a girl. Robert cried. I cried. Bailey and Max cried because we were crying.

Bailey is such a man now. He no longer needs my help for things, and is always closed up in his room. I feel like I can't relate to him anymore. The only people who get through to him are House, and Max.

Max is still my little baby. He is forever asking my opinion on things, and asking for my help. I love my little Max. I love Bailey too, but it seems like we never connect anymore.

He wants to be an artist; I think it's not a wise decision. Robert and House encourage it. They say it'll build character. Max wants to be a teacher—this week. Last week, he wanted to be a chef. Next week? Who knows? He might want to be an astronaut! My little dreamer.

Maybe moving to Australia was a bad idea…?


	2. House Makes a House Call

Bailey and Max

**Author's Note: Honors English 11 is kicking my ass! Sorry, guys! Here's chapter two!**

Chapter Two: Guess Who?

_Cameron's POV_

Three days of cleaning the house like a madwoman, getting time off from work, making sure the kids weren't running wild, and trying to keep my marriage in one piece later, my surrogate parents—and in-laws—were finally in Melbourne. At least, they're supposed to be here by now.

Robert and I haven't been speaking much, lately. I mean, we keep cheery faces on for the kids constantly. I think Bailey sees through us though. He's not that bright-eyed baby anymore. Bailey is quiet, independent and self-sufficient. Aka, all the things I prayed he wouldn't be the night he was born.

He wants to be an artist. When I was pregnant with him, I dreamed of all the careers he might take up. And, of course, he picks the ONE career that Robert's mother had. I'm not saying Robert's mother wasn't a good mother, but her genetic quirks were not something I wanted my sons to have.

Sometimes I wish we had had our third baby, but other times I'm glad we just had our two boys. Late at night is when I forget all those little moments of hate, and just simply love my husband again. It's a wonderful feeling. We look into each other's eyes, and whisper all the things we need to apologize for so our sleeping sons won't hear us.

Last night, Max had a nightmare. He was crying and kicking his feet like a little baby. I couldn't console him, Robert couldn't console him. Bailey, half-asleep, comes in and lies down next to him. They were both fast asleep in seconds. The things I can't do, my fifteen year old son can.

Bailey comes in from school, a weary look on my teenager's face. He looks exhausted and pale. My brow knits, my stomach tightens.

"Bailey, you alright?" I ask, gently walking closer to him. He looks up, and quickly recovers.

"I'm alright, Mom." He says, as he walks out of my arm's reach. Story of our lives lately, it seems. No matter what I do, Robert and House can do it ten times better than me. Hell, Max can do it better than me and he's only twelve.

I'm losing my son. I'm losing my husband. I lost my job.

What else is there to lose?

_Bailey POV_

My mom thinks I hate her. I don't hate her. I could never hate her. She's my mom.

I just haven't…felt good lately. My head's all achy, and my throat's been killing me for weeks now. I haven't felt like telling her. She's been so busy lately. With scheduling job interviews, taking care of Dad and Max…I don't need her worrying about me, too.

I think I have the flu or something, because I just can't get better. Maybe I should tell Mom or Dad…? Plus, I think Mom doesn't want me to be an artist. I think she thinks I'm going to turn into Grandma Chase or something like that.

I'm not. I'm never drinking, I'm never doing drugs. I promised my dad that when I was four years old. I didn't know why then, but now I do. I know what my grandmother was, what my grandfather did to her, what my father could have done to us.

I think my mom should be grateful that Dad didn't turn out like Grandpa Chase. He could have easily left her when she got pregnant with little old me.

I sneak by Mom, and make it up to my room. I lay on my bed, and look up at the ceiling. The stars that Mom and I put up one weekend are still there. I was ten when we did that. My head is spinning. God, I feel sick.

The next thing I know, Uncle House is here. He's got a cold cloth on my forehead, and is gently humming something.

"Uncle..?" I croaked with my sandpaper voice.

"Shhh…it's me." He said, a smile gently tugging at his lips.

"What…?"

"Shh! Rest. We'll talk later."

I fell back asleep, a contented sigh exhaling from my body.


End file.
